Angel Cake
by Uotani the fishie
Summary: He walked away, like the day before leaving the roses, on the ground, right next to her. The day after that, he came by once again. He tried shaking her hand. She didn’t move as always. Then, from behind him, he handed out another bouquet of white roses.


Angel Cake

A Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction by Uotani the Fishie

Disclaimer: Uotani will own Kenshin. Yes she will. Eventually, when all the real rich companies who actually own him go off and die somewhere, and when she gets through all the rabid fangirls. Yes, one day, she will own Kenshin, just not now.

Read: Surprisingly, a song made me write this. I don't know, don't ask me. I don't know exactly when I'll continue this. But there is something about that song that I listened to. There's a force to it. Yeah, I'm weird. I've been watching too much Star Wars. Nah, I'm kidding, I'm not much of a Star Wars fan. Maybe you music lovers will get what I'm trying to say. This may be a pointless story; I have no idea why I typed it at two AM in the morning. The plot for this will be short, and small, much less complicated than my other short, small fanfiction. Enjoy.

She sat there, on that wooden, worn-out chair; everyday, quietly, in front of the bus stop. The trees of these woods were older than she could ever be. Everyday, she saw the same people. There was that old man, who always sat next to her, reading his newspaper. Once in a while, he would glance over, smiling. He tried talking to her, once, or even twice. She never replied; she could only stare at him. He never took the silence unpleasantly; he just turned his head back to his newspaper, and read until the sun went high up. Then he would leave. One day, as he entered the bus, he turned around, smiled, and said goodbye.

Then, there was a little girl, who was probably no longer so little. She use to stop by with her mother, and walked. She looked happy. But the world would never be perfect. Years passed, and the girl no longer walked alongside her fragile mother. The woman was old. Her hair was snow white; there was not a strand of colored hair left. The woman looked sad. Her wrinkled smiles never appeared again. The woman looked at her, quite many times. The woman just sighed, a wanting sigh, a sigh that longed for something that she had been missing.

She was bound onto this place. No one ever wondered about her. She never spoke; there was no need to. And no one could disturb her. She sat there, on that wooden, worn-out chair; everyday, quietly, in front of the bus stop. There was also one person, who always came by. He was there, ever since she found herself placed on that chair. The first day he met her, he spoke to her. She didn't speak back; so he left. The next day, he came back, giving her a bouquet of white roses. He handed it to her; and she didn't accept it. He walked away, like the day before; leaving the roses, on the ground, right next to her. The day after that, he came by once again. He tried shaking her hand. She didn't move; as always. Then, from behind him, he handed out another bouquet of white roses. Seeing her refusal once again, he left them, right on top of the last bouquet. Then he left again.

His hair was the color of ginger. He had long bangs, that grew longer and longer as more years passed. Even the color of his hair had started to fade out. But its shine was never lost. Even in her eyes, his gray brown hair still shown brightly like it had once did years ago. People aged. She had to accept it; she had seen it happen to so many people. Would it happen to her?

Then, one day, the man came up to her with white roses again, and held a bag in his hand, the same one he held his cane with. Instead of leaving like he always did, he sat down next to her. "You, the first time I saw you, you were beautiful."

She didn't reply, like she always did.

"And it's been years. I've never had a chance to even introduce myself. I'm Kenshin. May I ask your name, young miss?"

He stared into her eyes, putting up a semi-wrinkled smile. He had light blue eyes that held confusion, pain that had been erased a long time ago, and a bit of light.

Should she answer? Was there a need to? _Could she? _

She opened her mouth, but no words would come out. Would there really be a purpose to speaking?

"Well, I see you are, as quiet as ever. Sad to say, but I'm sorry, I won't be able to give you flowers everyday anymore…So I decided to talk to you, just today. I might come tomorrow…I really don't know anymore."

She turned and stared at him. He was old. His skin was as soft as the old lady's skin, the one that would walk around the park behind her, alone.

"For all these years, I've given you roses for no explanation. Now, I might as well tell you."

She was interested. Interested in why this strange man had always given her roses. Even on the harsh winter afternoons, or on scorching summer days. She listened.

"You look, almost, exactly like the woman I loved all my life. She was more beautiful than a rose." He chuckled, as his eyes became a bit red. "But no one, sorry, not even you my dear, will replace her. Not even if they were even more beautiful." He wrapped one hand around his mouth, thinking, for a long time.

She was old now, was she still beautiful?

"Let me tell you the story, of me, the woman I love, and…much more."

He took his hand off his mouth, and spoke, in a neutral voice. "Her name was Kaoru. The first time I met her, was, consequently, here...She was wearing her school uniform, and she smiled at me. But, that was only the beginning."

She was interested. She looked into him, such loving eyes. He loved the woman very much. More than she had ever been loved.

Short? Yes. Very uninteresting? Also yes. I have a vague plot in my mind, but I have no idea if I will continue. So, yeah.


End file.
